The Puppet
by tomgirl1219
Summary: Growing up as a Malfoy, caring, and sympathy and other things were never shown. So eventually, after not showing caring  emotions for sixteen years, said emotions tend to build up. And sometimes, they just come out, on their own accord. Oneshot.


**The Puppet**

Growing up as a Malfoy, caring, and sympathy and other things of that nature were never shown. Draco remembers a time when he was six, and he had scraped his knee, his father promised to punish his mother if she comforted him, saying that he deserved what he got because riding bicycles was not for wizards, but for only "filthy muggles".

However, humans are filled with every emotion, whether they like it or not, except for maybe Voldemort. H's missing a lot of things, not only emotions, but a nose as well. But, as I was saying, humans have emotions. It's science. It's the way we were made. So eventually, after not showing caring emotions for sixteen years, said emotions tend to build up. And sometimes, they just come out, on their own accord.

The same was said for a blond haired boy who was walking along a lonely corridor. He had heard footsteps, and, having nothing better to do, decided to follow them. When he came to a fork in the path, the footsteps lead right, so he went to the left, to see where they were coming from. He came upon none other then Hermione Granger.

Draco was racking his brain for petty insults, but, as mentioned before, when he saw her crying, sitting on the step by herself, the built up care decided to act. It controlled him like a puppet, seating him beside the watery Gryffindor.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione spat, though it ended with less venom then she would have liked, and instead of facing the Slytherin with a straight back and a strong front, she crumpled up, and against her will, began sobbing again.

Draco watched her. He had seen girls cry before, living at a Dark Arts filled house. Tortured people cried. But he had never seen a person cry over such an innocent cause. A broken heart. Draco had never had a broken heart, his father had taught him not to let people come too near to him, it only weakens a person.

"I don't know." Draco said simply, not moving from his spot next to her, enjoying the warmth that radiated from her. He had never experienced the warmth of another person before. Pansy had been cold.

"Well aren't you going to leave?" The brunette asked, swiveling so she could turn her back on him.

"No." Draco said, though he was confused as to why he had.

"Why not?" She asked once more, eying the strange boy from under her hair. Draco could see her puffy, red eyes, the still damp tear tracks. His build up caring gave a little prang.

"Because." Draco paused. He really had no clue as to why. But his caring grabbed the puppet's conducting strings, and worked his mouth. "Because it looked as if you needed someone."

Hermione sat up straight at this, staring at the odd Draco intently. Draco wanted to kick himself. What kind of self respecting pure blood says that to a muggleborn?

"Thanks for your concern, Malfoy," She said, sarcasm dripping into her croaking voice. "But I'm fine."

Hermione made to stand up, but the blond spoke first.

"It's Weasley, isn't it?" Draco asked, and he looked at the floor thinking. Hermione turned back to stare at him some more, but he was not looking at her, judging her with his piecing gray eyes. They were turned down, as if it didn't matter that the subject of his torments was practically having a mental breakdown right in front of him.

The Slytherin heard another choking noise, and Hermione plopped herself heavily down again.

That was all the confirmation Draco needed.

"I actually know how you feel," Started The Caring. "I was once in a position when I couldn't have someone I wanted. It wasn't actually a girl. It was a boy. When I was young, about six, my family and I lived in a muggle community, for a short time. A few houses down, there was a boy, about my age. His name was Dillon, and we met at the playground. My nanny had taken me there, because my father was screaming about how a child running around the house was distracting. I only had an old rubber ball to play with, and it rolled away.

I went searching for it, and found Dillon holding it. Dillon gave it back, rolling it to me. I rolled it back. And that's were our friendship began. We had loads of fun, he was my best friend, but we always kept it secret, because Dillon was a muggle, and my father would most certainly not be happy."

Draco gave a humorless laugh, and Hermione gave a tearful smile, and Draco continued on.

"One day, Dillon was teaching me to ride his bike. He said that he was getting a new one for his birthday, and that I could have his old one. I always hated hand-me downs, but this was different.

I fell while trying to learn, and scraped up my knees. Dillon ran to my house to retrieve my mother, but my father opened the door. Dillon told him all about falling off his bike, and my father played nice, but after I was never allowed to see Dillon again."

Draco finished. He glanced at Hermione. She was sitting more upright, the tear tracks dried on her face. She smiled a little at Draco's story.

"What happened to Dillon?" She asked timidly, as if willing Draco to continue talking. She liked the deep, soothing rhythm of his voice.

"I never saw him again. In the beginning of the summer, I got a letter inviting me to his funeral. His mother remembered me. Dillon had died of cancer." Draco smiled sadly. "I went to his funeral. I snuck out of my house that day, and attended. It was a lovely funeral. Many people brought flowers. I brought the long deflated rubber ball, and gave it to him."

Hermione thought it was odd how caring Draco sounded.

"I'm sorry about Dillon, Draco." Hermione said, using his first name. It rolled off her tongue easily, and left a tingling feeling.

"His mother told me he had been suffering for a long time. He's better off where he is now. He doesn't have to hurt." Draco said and he smiled.

"So your glad Dillon's gone?" Hermione asked. She wasn't judging him, but asking questions was natural to her.

"This is why I told you this story. Ron is Dillon, Lavender is cancer," Hermione laughed at this, and Draco gave a smile before continuing. "You are me. I gave Dillon up to the cancer, instead of trying to change what can't be changed, and Dillon is happy and so am I. You need to give Ron up to Lavender, and stop crying over him, and let you be happy, because he is happy." Draco explained, and Hermione had never heard word with such a meaning come out of the Slytherin. Draco watched as she thought, he eyes flicking back and forth, as if she was reading his words again. She looked up at him.

"Thank you." She said simply, drying her eyes, and when she finished, Draco saw a radiant smile.

"Any time, Hermione." Draco said, standing up and walking away, but not before placing a feather light kiss on the back of her hand.


End file.
